Judgment Day
by sueinnm
Summary: Loki goes to trial before Odin and a council of gods, facing judgment for his crimes on earth. How much must he suffer to begin to make amends? Part 4 in the "Loki's Redemption" series, an alternate version of the events following The Avengers and continuing into Thor: The Dark World.


_**Judgment Day**_

Part Four in the**"Loki's Redemption" **series

originally written late 2012/early 2013

_**They forced Loki**_ to his knees before the dais—the semi-circular steps rising above him, his once-mother Frigga standing near the top, Odin reigning over all from his golden throne. In chairs ranged to either side of him sat the foremost of the gods, who were there, in theory, to advise Odin in his verdict. But the final judgment would be Odin's alone.

Loki expected nothing but the most severe punishment possible. The hands on his shoulders were not gentle; he was, to the guards, as to all of Asgard: a murderer a traitor, a would-be kinslayer. It mattered less in their eyes that he had taken Midgardian lives; for them, the latter two charges were the most unthinkable of all.

Thor stood on the other side of the dais, a few steps below his father, the Warriors Three and Sif a little lower. Thor stared grimly at some point across the hall; Lady Sif glared at Loki with unalloyed hatred, and the Warriors Three, each in his way, looked as if they would rather be anywhere else.

And Frigga … she stood with her head high, but her eyes were red. She had been weeping.

Over him. _That_ he hated more than he hated the god on the dais, all the others who believed themselves fit to stand above him and gloat over his downfall.

Loki had refused to let them destroy him even before the inevitable judgment was pronounced, though they had caged and bound him like an animal and denied that he had ever been rightful King of Asgard. He held himself erect, his chin lifted, his eyes fixed on Odin, who gazed back at him with his one-eyed, unreadable stare. Huginn and Muninn, the ravens perched on the back of the throne, flapped their wings in agitation.

The silence was otherwise absolute. Thousands of Asgardian subjects crowded the vast reception hall that had once rung with jubilation over Thor's coronation.

All far in the past now. As soon _he_ would be.

"Why do you hesitate, All-father?" he asked. "Is it so difficult a task to condemn a frost giant and would-be kinslayer?"

One of the guards struck him hard across the face with his gauntleted hand, cutting Loki's mouth and scraping the skin off part of his left jaw. He rocked back and quickly righted himself, unable to raise a hand to wipe away the blood as it welled in the cuts and dripped over his chin. Frigga gasped and closed her eyes, the only one to react in even the smallest way.

No, not entirely true. Thor shifted slightly, his head moving almost as if he himself had been struck.

Sentiment. Thor Odin's-son had never rid himself of it, and never would.

Odin said nothing. He continued to gaze at Loki as if he couldn't believe he'd ever taken such a monster under his protection and raised him as a son.

"Let me make it easier for you," Loki said. The guard raised his hand again. Frigga opened her mouth and descended a step. Neither completed their movement. In an instant, Loki gave himself to his true heritage. He felt the chill run through his veins, his skin changing, his eyes seeing not a former "father" but a deadly enemy. A gasp ran through the crowd.

"Silence!"

Odin's voice was soft, but Loki was certain it could be heard throughout the other Realms. Even he flinched and lost his concentration. Immediately his appearance slipped back to the one he had been accustomed to all his life, the default of pale skin and dark hair and smooth skin.

"There is nothing more you could to condemn yourself further, Loki." The word "Laufeyson" echoed unspoken in the charged air between them. "You will be punished not because of what you are, but because of what you have done."

"And do you think I should cower in fear, All-father? There is nothing you can do to me that has not already been done, save for death. And that I do not fear."

One of the gods seated closest to Odin spoke softly in his ear. Odin nodded slowly.

"Death should be your fate," Odin said. "You have many times attempted to kill my son, and betrayed our realm. You have wreaked havoc on earth. For this you have earned execution in the most desolate region under Asgardian rule, left for the ravens and wolves to devour."

Frigga made a choked sound, turning to face her lord and husband. "All-father," she said. "My king. It was I who granted him the right to rule when Thor was banished and you in the Odinsleep."

"Your judgment was flawed," Odin said, not deigning to look at her. "You handed power to a boy who knew not how to wield it and used it only for murder and destruction."

Loki remembered that moment so well; sitting beside the All-father's enormous bed, asking when he would wake; his shock when Frigga had suggested that Thor might find his way back; his confusion and fear when the guards had appeared and knelt to him, when he had been offered the scepter. He hadn't been able to believe, then, that even his adoptive mother would offer the throne, however briefly, to the child of frost giants.

And the knowledge that came to him then … he had what he deserved, the right to rule Asgard. Stolen from him.

The first charge against you is attempted fratricide," Odin said. "With malice and full knowledge, you attempted to kill—"

"But I am not dead, All-father," Thor said.

There was a collective gasp at Thor's audacity in interrupting the king. Odin turned his ferocious gaze on his true son, but Thor held firm. He glanced at Loki, his expression unreadable.

"You," Odin said, his voice growing very soft, "will be silent as well, Thor."

"I will not, All-father," Thor said, meeting Odin's hard gaze. "I brought Loki back for a fair hearing, and clearly—"

"Silence, indeed," Loki said, offering his former brother a look of contempt. "I require no assistance from you."

"Loki—" Frigga began.

Odin rose. Immediately every man and woman in the room knelt and bowed their heads, all save Frigga, Thor and Loki.

"If it is necessary," Odin said, "I shall send everyone from this hall save myself and the prisoner. Is that how it is to be?"

Thor opened his mouth and closed it again. Frigga covered her eyes with one delicate, gentle hand.

The All-father resumed his seat. "The prisoner will have his chance to speak," he said, "but not until I permit it." He gestured to a guard to his right, who quickly descended the steps carrying the muzzle Loki had worn on his and Thor's return to Asgard. Loki tried to stand, but the guards stunned him with their spears, and he was incapable of resisting as the muzzle was locked around his mouth. Along with the shackles, it left him with no way of working even the simplest magic.

And, of course, it was meant to make him appear no better than a Midgardian mad dog.

Odin's gaze swept the room again. "The second charge is treason against Asgard and its laws. In refusing to yield the throne to Thor upon his return, in abusing the trust placed in him, and in attempting to destroy Jotunheim, he proved himself opposed to Asgardian law and honor."

Under the muzzle, Loki laughed. Only he could hear the sound. He and Odin, who barely glanced at him. _Honor_. The honor of raising a child as a tool to be used at need, of no more importance than any of the other relics.

"The third charge," Odin said, "is the loss of life for which Loki is responsible on Midgard. His reckless disregard for the welfare of the mortals cannot be ignored. For this, too, he must pay the harshest penalty."

Loki looked away. Those days were almost a blur, as if he had viewed them through a tinted lens or eyes other than his own. He knew he had not been … quite himself. But he no longer knew what "himself" was. Perhaps he never would again.

If he ever had.

"… speak to any of these charges, you may have this one opportunity to do so," Odin said, his voice breaking through Loki's thoughts. The All-father resumed his seat, his ravens croaking as if to echo his words.

Thor straightened, noble as always in his formal armor, powerful and handsome, the very epitome of Asgardian nobility. "All-father," he said, his voice as hoarse as if he had been bellowing war cries in battle, "I would speak."

"Speak, then," Odin said, his face without expression.

Thor looked once at Loki and then back to Odin. "There can be no denying that Loki is guilty of serious crimes. I will not deny any of them. I myself witnessed or suffered the brunt of them. And yet I will now allow my brother to be condemned undefended."

Murmurs flooded the hall again, though Loki knew rumor had spread that Thor intended to speak in defense of his "brother." Loki sneered under the muzzle, hating himself for having pleaded more than once that Thor not defend him in any way. He had only humiliated himself. He wanted nothing from Odin's son. Nothing.

"Proceed," Odin said.

"Loki attempted to kill me more than once," Thor said. "But will not waste the time of this noble body by relating these incidents again. What I will say is that I do not believe Loki was in his right mind when he appeared on Midgard with the scepter. He had been long absent from any Realm known to Asgard. We know not what he suffered during that time, or what changed him. But he _did _change."

Once again Thor looked down at Loki, his eyes searching as if he expected Loki to nod in agreement.

"I believe he was driven mad," Thor said. "I some would argue he has always been so. But I contend that his actions on Midgard were guided by something beyond himself. I witnessed the power of the Tesseract at first hand. I believe it warped Loki's mind."

"And this accounts for the deaths he caused?" Odin asked.

"I do not know. I can only attest that he was not himself, that there were two occasions when I almost broke through this madness and saw my brother as he once was."

_Two occasions_, Loki thought. Once when Thor had pleaded with Loki to give up the Tesseract and return with him to Asgard, before the Iron Man had offered him battle. Loki had "seen" Thor then, too, and remembered the things Thor spoke of … "played together, fought together."

And living in the shade of Thor's greatness. He had almost … _almost_ … succumbed to his brother's offer. But the instant of weakness had passed, and he had watched with amusement as Tony Stark and Thor wasted their fury against each other while he waited to be taken to the place he most wanted to be.

The second time … Loki closed his eyes, his heart torn by so many feelings that he wished he had none at all, not even hatred. They had battled atop Stark Tower. Thor had begged him to halt the events set in motion, to fight by his side to end it and save Earth from the Chitauri.

Loki remembered looking down at the mayhem he and the Chitauri had caused, and for a moment he _had_ wanted to stop it, to pull back, to fight again at his brother's side. He had _wept_.

But it was too late. It—and he—had gone too far. So he had stabbed his brother—his_ former _brother— knowing such a small weapon could never harm the mighty Thor, attacking his own momentary weakness as much as mocking Thor's.

_Sentiment._

"And if what you say is true," Odin said, "what of his attempts in Asgard? What is his excuse for these repulsive actions?"

Thor stared at the steps under his feet. "All-father, I …"

"I will speak," Frigga said, her voice almost as strong and carrying as her lord husband's. "I will speak for my son."

#

At first Frigga was silent, as if she searched for just the right words. His mother … former mother … had always been so, Loki thought—diplomatic, finding the simplest and kindness way of expressing her thoughts, yet capable of great ferocity when it suited her cause. Especially when she defended her children.

But Loki was not one of _them_. And she had seen him weep like a child, like a broken thing, and held him as once she had done before he had found his magic and had seemed so much less than Thor and his peers. She had seen him weak.

For that he should have despised her as much as she despised herself. But he could not. She, alone, he could not find the will to hate.

"All-father," she said, facing her husband, "I once begged you not to send our son Thor into exile. I was wrong. You, in your wisdom, knew that he must learn lessons he could not be taught in Asgard, not even by his noble sire." She inclined her head. "You believed he _could_ learn, could win the right to inherit the throne, and he did not disappoint you."

Odin said nothing, though his full attention was bent on his wife. He seemed as impassive as always, but Loki could see the small changes in the All-father's expression . He had learned, at a very young age, how to parse even the slightest twitch in a man's jaw, the corner of a lip turning up, the expression in even the most guarded eyes. And he saw Odin's love, his respect for Frigga, his willingness to listen to her.

His decision had not yet been made. Loki bit back on his hope, scorning himself for it, for that small realizing that part of him still yearned for mercy. Perhaps even for a second chance.

There would never be a second chance, Loki thought. And if there were, would he not do exactly as he had done before?

"Loki," Frigga said, cutting across his bitter musings, "has his own flaws. Severe ones, perhaps not so easily cured as Thor's. But you gave Thor the chance when he nearly sparked a new war with the Jotuns. "

_Because I tricked him into going to Jotunheim_, Loki thought, striving to make the words pass through the muzzle. _Because I knew he was unfit, and our … Thor's father must see_ _that I must be the one to rule_.

But it had gone far beyond what Loki had expected. He had been compelled to accompany Thor, and had convinced his brother and the others that he relished the excursion as much as Thor did.

And then the revelation. The most terrible truth.

"Thor made errors of judgment," Odin said, his voice heavy and stern. "But he never sought to harm members of his own family, steal the throne, or slaughter humans."

"No," Frigga said softly, glancing at Thor as if to ask his forgiveness. "Only Jotuns."

Thor bowed his head. "My mother is right, All-father," he said. "I regarded them as no more than Loki regarded the mortals."

"It is not the same!" Odin said, banging his scepter on the marble dais. "Loki would have destroyed Jotunheim entire, male and female and child."

"Out of hatred for himself," Frigga said. "A terrible thing. Unforgivable. And yet …." She bowed her head. "And yet, as a mother, it is in my nature to forgive, to seek the good even when darkness has absorbed nearly every trace of light." She looked down at Loki, a terrible love in her eyes. "I condemn everything my son has done. He must be punished, and I told him so myself. He must earn his redemption, if there is to be any at all. He must pay for every life he has taken, for what he has done to his brother, and—"

"I freely absolve him of his attempts on my life," Thor interrupted, meeting first his mother's eyes and then Odin's. "I beg that you not take those actions into account when you set his punishment."

"As I do," Frigga said, that same love in her eyes as she meet Thor's gaze. A deep understanding passed between them, excluding Loki as if he did not exist.

As of course he did not, except as a symbol of infamy. An example to all who might attempt to follow in his footsteps.

"These charges must be considered," Odin said, turning his fell gaze on his eldest son. "But I shall also consider your words."

"Thank you, All-father," Loki said, bowing his head.

"Have you more to say, Queen Frigga?" Odin asked, formal as the judge he was.

"Yes." Frigga knelt, humbling herself. Loki rose so swiftly that the guards were not ready for him. He succeeded in climbing three steps toward his mother when they caught up with him and dragged him back, throwing him to the floor.

Frigga glanced at him and shook her head, tears streaming over her soft cheeks. She turned toward Odin again. "All-father," she began.

"Rise," Odin said. "The Queen of Asgard need never kneel to its king."

"Yet I must beg," Frigga said. "Beg you to hear me, Odin All-father, though what I say will anger you and give you just reason to punish me at Loki's side." She swallowed and then lifted her head. "We raised two sons together, you and I. One was our golden child, beloved by nearly everyone who ever came into his presence. It was he you favored, always, for his courage and battle skills and great heart. And because you knew Loki was not one of us and could never be."

Loki struggled to rise again, but one of the guards jabbed the tip of his staff against Loki's neck. If he struck there, Loki would no longer be conscious enough to hear or see how his mother degraded herself for his sake.

And though he wished he might not witness it, he owed that much to her. To honor the efforts she made, even against his last wishes. He looked up at Odin, watching for any sign of anger. _H_e was being judged, in his way, as much as Loki was. But he bore it, as if nothing Frigga might say of his failings could affect him.

"_You pretended to love me_," Loki thought, remembering the moment when it had all become devastatingly clear. "_The monster parents tell their children about at night."_

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drive the memory of that last conversation from his mind. Last save for Odin's final words on the Bifrost. The worst words of all.

"Loki was different in so many ways," Frigga went on, her entire attention focused on her husband. "He was ever a child of shadow. But there can be no light without shadow. Without him, Thor would not be what he is today, for each reminded the other of what was missing within himself."

"Because he was your son—" Odin began.

"Because he _is_ my son," Frigga interrupted, "and because as Thor was your favorite, Loki was mine. With all his secret ways, his careful observation, his pranks, his hidden anger, he needed me as Thor never did. It was me he came to with his hurts when he expected only your rejection. He was often ill in childhood, but he begged me not to speak of it to anyone, least of all to you or Thor. He could not bear to have either of you realize he was so weak, but he did _not_ know—and you, All-father, forbade me to tell him—that it was his Jotun blood that struggled to survive in our world. I feared many times he might die of it, but each time he fought, and each time he survived, a little stronger than before."

Loki trembled, hating Freya, loving her, reliving each of those ugly times when he had lain in his bed, too fevered to see or hear or eat or drink, his body racked with shudders so severe that he bit his own tongue. And Frigga had stayed by his side, bathing his forehead with wet cloths, speaking to him softly—though at times he could not understand her words—telling him wild tales of other Realms and fantastic battles he suspected she had concocted out of her own imagination. She alone, because she listened to his pleas and permitted only one maid to assist her.

Scarcely able to breath, Loki felt Thor's stare and looked up. Here was an apt object for his fury. But Thor's bright eyes were not filled with pity. They gleamed with anger at himself, at his own ignorance. He would have helped his brother had he known.

But he, Loki thought with an inward laugh, would not have _wished_ to know. It might have ruined his games, his weapons practice, his faring forth with the Warriors Three. And Sif. Because he would have felt obligated to stay with his mother at his brother's side.

_Be silent_, he begged his mother within his mind. _Say no more_.

"When he was well," Frigga said, "he came to me again and again, insatiable for learning, for every book or scroll I could provide, for any fact I could impart. For Thor these things held no interest, but Loki's mind could hold more than any child or man or woman I have ever known. I learned along with him, and soon he outpaced me. But it brought us close, and I also learned to understand his heart, troubled as it was. And see the good in him."

Shamed beyond bearing, beyond any pain he had experienced or could ever experience, Loki shouted behind the muzzle. The force of his will overcame the force of the binding, and the word came, faint but clear, from his throat.

"_Stop_!"

But Frigga, whom Loki knew had heard him, didn't listen. "Do you not see?" she said to her husband. "He knew he could never be his brother's equal in the ways of battle, of strength, but he sought other ways to win the favor he believed you withheld from him. He attained a scholar's learning. He developed skill with what mortals call magic beyond that of any other who has ever inhabited these Realms. He learned to entertain with his wit and his small pranks. He honed his body to its capacity, not to wield axe and sword but with grace and speed instead of brute strength, enough so that even Thor saw his value in battle. And it was to _me_ he came for judgment, to learn whether or not he had at last earned the right to his father's respect."

No longer able to bear the humiliation that seared each of his nerves like acid, the knowledge that every eye in the hall was turned on him in scorn for hiding behind his mother's skirts, Loki turned his head aside and retreated deep inside himself, into that place where he felt nothing but could still hear, and see, as if he were someone else. Someone else … one of the many selves he could no longer sort out, one from the other.

"Do you accuse me of not loving both my sons?" Odin said. His voice was no longer quite steady, and it was as if he and Frigga were alone in their private chambers instead of in the presence of thousands of their subjects.

"No," Frigga said, very softly. "Only of a natural preference for the one most like you, as I preferred the one most like me, though we loved both. And that you, All-father, could never forget he was a Jotun, and would one day serve your purpose. A noble purpose—a lasting peace between Jotunheim and Asgard, but never once considering Loki's wishes."

_Another relic_, Loki thought, but his own voice was very far away.

"He would have recognized the necessity," Odin said.

"Perhaps if you had told him in childhood, as I urged, and prepared him, never allowing him to believe that it made no difference to you what he was or might become. But you did not, All-father. He was left to learn the truth on his own. A devastating truth that summoned all the pain and resentment he had nurtured in his heart for many mortal centuries and released it like a monster on our world, and on Earth."

"Do you seek to blame his failings on me?" Odin asked.

Even Loki, far away as he was, heard Odin's anger awakening at last. But Frigga, still on her knees, didn't flinch or tremble. Ever the she-wolf, protecting her young with her very life.

"No, All-father," she said softly. "On both of us. On our assumptions, our failure to understand. Our failure to take the necessary actions to halt Loki's worst tendencies in early childhood, to guide him to use his gifts for the good, to encourage what he was without comparing him to Thor. Both of us, Odin."

"And Loki bears no responsibility at all?"

At last Frigga looked down at Loki. "He bears responsibility. He had the freedom to choose. We never took that from him. But I knew him as you never did. He _can_ learn, and that is why I beg for this once chance to let him contemplate his choices and consider how he must make reparation."

"So say I, as well," Thor said, bold and fearless as always, his courage now tempered with what the faraway Loki would have called wisdom. "I, too, bear blame for regarding Loki as a nuisance, for leaving him behind instead of setting a good example and being patient enough to recognize his differences as of value in themselves, not as weaknesses."

His words almost broke through Loki's discipline, but he held to it as he had once desperately grasped the scepter while he dangled over the abyss. Before Thor had let him fall.

_You let go_, a voice whispered. _You longed for death_.

He shook his head, rejecting the voice. _Thor_ had let him go. _Thor_ had killed him.

"His past is no excuse for what he has done," Odin said, his voice weighted with the All-father's authority. "All you have said, Queen Frigga, changes nothing."

"But my King …"

"Rise, and speak no more."

She got to her feet, all dignity, all sorrow and anger. Her cheeks were still wet with tears. Thor held her gaze for a moment and took a step up toward his father.

"All-father," he said, "if you will permit …"

Odin nodded, and Thor inclined his head. "I said I forgave Loki his attempts to slay me," he said. "In his own way, he believed himself more fit to hold the throne than I, and acted as king to thwart my return to Asgard in any way possible."

"No," Odin said. "He did not act in favor of Asgard, but because he wanted power. Craved it, as you craved battle. "

"On Earth, yes. He wanted to rule at any price. But I heard him speak words you did not, All-father, when we fought over the Bifrost. He said he never wanted the throne, only to be my equal. And when he fell into the abyss …. Those words you _did_ hear, All-father. He said he could have done it for you. For all of us."

For the first time Odin looked away, as if saw into some far distance no one else had a hope of glimpsing. As, indeed, he did, Loki thought coldly.

"I heard all that passed between you," Thor said. "Or have you forgotten I see and hear even in the Odinsleep?"

"Yes, All-father," Thor said. "I did forget, for a moment. But when he clung to life above the abyss, when he told you why he had acted as he did, you spoke only two words. 'No, Loki.' And those were the last words he heard when he let go."

_When you cast me down_, Loki thought, losing his detachment. But Thor had already anticipated him.

"We fought on Earth, brother against brother, more than once," Thor said. "I heard him accuse me of throwing him from the Bifrost. His mind was not as it was. He remembered things that never happened. But some things he did remember. And I saw in his eyes the full understanding of what he had helped set in motion, what he believed could not be stopped. Not only what occurred on Earth, but within himself. "

"And still this is no excuse," Odin said.

"No excuse," Thor said, shaking his head. "I stand with Queen Frigga in the necessity of punishment, severe enough to compel him to think on all the evil he has done. But I believe that something else had hold of him on Earth, something that amplified his rage and pain and hatred beyond even what it was in Asgard before his fall. Now that he is free of it …"

"Is he?" Odin said. "I see no evidence of this."

"He must be given time to prove it," Thor said. "Time, and mercy enough to make use of it."

"Do you, too, claim to love such evil?"

"Not the evil," Thor said, very quietly. "But the good that may find its way out of the brother I love."

Loki's will failed him, and he choked on emotions he had no way to express. Mortals said the opposite of love was not hate, but indifference. He would never feel indifferent to Thor, but he could no longer discern the difference between the other two.

Odin. _Odin_ he could hate.

#

But Odin didn't care. Odin had never cared.

"I have heard you, Thor," Odin said. "I will consider your testimony. Is there anyone else who speaks for the prisoner?"

Though he would not deign to turn and look for supporters he knew were not there, Loki listened to the rush of whispers: denials, expressions of disbelief and anger, even derisive laughter. He was not expecting that one of the whisperers might not be what he assumed.

Until he heard the voice. A young voice, female, cracking a little with nervousness.

"Great All-father," she said. She paused to clear her throat, but Odin nodded, and she went on, though still with obvious apprehension at daring to speak at all. Loki forced himself to maintain his position.

He remembered the voice. And it took him back to his early manhood, when he had still allowed himself to feel pity for others.

They had met in one of the back hallways of the palace: he, a prince and son of the most powerful being in the Nine Realms; she, merely a servant, younger and scrawny and by no means pretty. But she had stood facing him in defiance, small fists clenched, chin up, boldly looking him in the eye as so few dared to do.

He had seen the tears she struggled so fiercely to hold back. And he had seen a fellow creature in those eyes.

"What has hurt you, little one?" he'd asked, clasping his fists behind his back.

"Nothing. My lord." She sniffled. "I am sorry to have troubled you with my—"

Her voice broke, and he scrambled past him. He let her go. Her troubles were not his concern.

But then he had met her again.

"Prince Loki saved me," the girl's voice said, echoing in the vast hall. "When I was … younger, I wished for nothing more than to be a warrior like Lady Sif."

Sif's head jerked in surprise as her gaze sought the girl among the onlookers.

"But I was ugly," the girl said with greater confidence. "And I was small, and merely a servant. So I was mocked, and beaten, and told I was nothing but a stupid child daring to aspire beyond my station and my sex."

Odin leaned forward, chin on fist. "And how did the prisoner assist you?"

"When he came upon the boys who were beating me, he drove them away." Loki heard a spark of humor in her voice. "He tricked them with magic and sent them fleeing in terror. He would have beaten them himself had I not begged him not to. He was gracious to me, and listened when I spoke without mocking me."

The hall was silent again, as if the girl were the greatest skald in all Asgard.

"I told him of my desires, and he offered to teach me. He said I would never be any good with a sword, because I was too small. But he said I could be very good with knives, as he was. So every week, when I was not needed, we went to a place abandoned by others, and he taught me. Not only weaponry, but how to learn from books and speak as more than a lowly servant girl. He was endlessly patient with my mistakes. He encouraged me as no other ever had before."

"Loki?" Lady Sif burst out. She covered her mouth with her hand and flushed deeply. Loki smiled viciously under the muzzle.

"He taught me until I was good enough to hit my mark every time," she said. "And he told me if I continued to practice and held to my courage, I might eventually become the warrior Lady Sif is. I have not become so yet, but I still hope one day I might prove myself."

His chest tight, Loki heard soft footsteps cross the hall and come to stop behind him.

"_I_ speak for Prince Loki," she said. "They say he is evil. But whatever he has done, he is worthy of another chance."

A small, slender hand came to rest gently on Loki's shoulder. He stiffened. But the hand remained there, comforting, as he had once attempted to comfort this child in her sorrow.

When he had been callow enough not to realize that compassion was only another path to pain.

Still, he didn't shake her off. He didn't move at all until the guards escorted her back to her former place in the audience.

"A moving story," Odin said without any trace of sarcasm. "But that was long ago. Are there any others who wish to speak?"

"Prince Loki taught me to ride."

A young man spoke this time, one whose voice Loki didn't recognize. He bit down hard on his lower lip to remind himself that was to feel nothing. Nothing but hate.

"I know you, young warrior," Odin said. "Speak."

"I was born with only half a leg," the young man said. "There are easy cures for such things in Asgard, but my …" He was silent a long time. "Those who raised me felt it was a fit punishment because my mother and father refused to abide by their choice for my mother's marriage. I was to bear the curse they placed upon her.

"Prince Loki found me among the horses. He knew without my saying that it was my dearest wish to ride, because he loved it so much himself, and so he showed me how to do it with my bad leg." He was silent again, as if his emotions had overwhelmed him. "Later, he saw to it that I was given what I lacked. Now I am whole and judged the best horseman among the _gestir_."

"Your testimony has been heard," Odin said. "But these are small things, are they not? Is there no one who can speak of a greater good the prisoner has done for Asgard?"

"He fought for us, with us, most loyally," Thor said. "When he worked against us, it was in small things that did not interfere in our battles. He forced us to test our own skills by countering his." He almost smiled. "I called Loki one who only does tricks instead of battle. But he is a warrior in his own right, a fighter worthy of the name, though he bears no sword. Lady Sif and the Warriors Three will testify to his courage."

Loki saw Lady Sif nearly choke on her outrage. But her expression cleared, and she met Odin's gaze.

"It is true, my king," she said. "He has never been without courage, and he has fought loyally for Asgard, until he usurped …" She stopped abruptly and cast Frigga a shamefaced look. "Until he acted against Prince Thor on Earth."

"He thought me a threat to Asgard," Thor said with that idiotic, blind loyalty. "And as I have said, I forgive him gladly."

Shuffling his large feet, Volstagg mumbled under his beard.

"Speak, Volstagg," Odin said.

"I …um …" The big warrior looked up. "I, too, admit to Loki's courage and willingness to die for Asgard, however much he has changed. He was not always as he was now."

"So say I," Fandral said, though he wouldn't look at Loki.

"And I," Hogan said.

"But courage does not absolve him of his many crimes,"  
Odin said. He leaned back on his throne. "He is still responsible for the deaths of two guards and countless mortals on Midgard. I have seen him show no remorse for his acts. If once he was capable of compassion, that quality seems to have abandoned him, perhaps forever."

_Compassion_, Loki thought. _And how much have you of that fine quality, All-father?_ _You who claimed to love me?_

"Is there nothing more I can say?" Thor asked. "Nothing more Queen Frigga can say that will move you to mercy?"

Odin didn't answer. He gestured to Loki's guards. They removed the muzzle. Loki spat and shook his head to rid himself of the taste and feel of the obscene object.

"You may now speak, Loki once-prince-of-Asgard," Odin said.

Loki bowed his head with the deepest irony. "May I stand, mighty All-father?"

Odin nodded. For the smallest moment, he looked away, and Loki felt a surge of intense satisfaction. The All-father had betrayed his own weakness.

Climbing to his feet, the guards' staffs ever at his back ready to strike him down again, he looked from Thor to Lady Sif and to the Warriors Three, smiling with contempt.

"Fine words," he said. "Such eloquence." He spat again, not far from Fandral's fine embroidered boot. "I reject it all. I wanted none of this so-called defense from any of you. Least of all from the man who was never my brother."

"Loki," Thor began, his expression stricken.

"You do little to improve your position," Odin said in his sternest voice. "Keep a civil tongue in your head, or you shall be gagged again and never permitted to speak in this hall again."

"Threats," Loki said with relish. "How I love to hear them spoken by the one who could destroy me with the blink of an eye. One eye, of course."

Gasps from the onlookers, a look of angry warning from Thor, disgust in Lady Sif's eyes. But no reaction from Odin All-father.

"You deceive no one," Lady Sif said. "You are so terrified it is a wonder you have not lost control of your—"

One look from Odin silenced her. She set her teeth and stared at the steps. Volstagg touched her shoulder.

"Lady Sif," Loki said with an ironic bow. "Now, at least, you speak from your heart. Did Thor beg you to defend me, even though it galled you to your very soul? Your pitiful efforts would not have convinced a mortal infant." He looked from her to the Warriors Three. "I suspect Thor was behind your reluctant testimony, such as it was, as well. But I would rather Surtr speak on my behalf than any of you."

"You are worse than Surtr," Volstagg said in a quiet bellow. "Worse than Malekith, worse than—"

"Volstagg."

So quiet, Odin's voice, yet the big warrior clamped his mouth shut and turned as red as had Lady Sif.

"I am honored by the comparison," Loki said with another slight bow. He gaze moved to Thor. "And you, Son of Odin," he said. "You never knew me, and yet you speak as if you did. You waste breath better saved for battle cries, which was ever the best use of your tongue. Except, perhaps, with the many maidens you conquered so easily. You comfort yourself in believing you might save me, congratulate yourself on your vast forbearance. Once again you deceive yourself."

"Loki," Thor said, the single word steeped in misery.

"Loki Laufeyson," Loki said. "The killer of his own sire. Do you not believe I would do the same with yours if I had the power?"

Thor descended several steps, a powerful fist bunched so strike. Loki only smiled, awaiting the blow.

"I will not sink to your level," Thor said heavily, unclenching his fingers. "You have condemned yourself. And still I have hope for you." He lowered his head. "May Odin have mercy. You will have none on yourself."

Suddenly Loki's throat was tight, and he didn't watch Thor ascend to his former position. He had to end this. He could bear no more. No more hatred, no more fear. No more love.

"Odin," he said. "I beg no mercy. I was not mad, as your son claims with such certainty. I only became what I was always destined to be. Let loose your wrath. Take me to that abandoned place and leave me to the wolves and ravens. If I am permitted a moment of gratitude, I will thank you for it."

"No!" Frigga cried. "He is _not_ what he was destined to be!" She reached out to the All-father. "I did not give him life, but he was my son from nearly the moment of his birth. I know him as no one else does. Let me take some part of his punishment, I beg you."

"Queen Frigga," Loki said, ashamed to hear his own voice so thick with the desire to weep on her behalf. "I beg you to be silent. You only debase yourself."

"Loki." She descended all the way to the bottom of the steps, stood before him, took his face between her hands. "I said I would fight by your side. Nothing has changed. I will help you. I will—"

He jerked his face away, still remembering the stinging slap she had given him in his cell. "Mother," he whispered, for her ears alone. "Let me go."

She embraced him, shackles and all, her arms firm and strong. Her soft cheek pressed his. "I love you," she whispered. "I do not want you to die."

"But I must." He stepped back, though his back struck hard against his guards' staffs, and pushed her away. "I will set you free. In time, you will forget I was ever your son."

"That can never be possible," she said. "I will mourn for eternity." Her eyes flared with anger. "And it will be your fault, Loki. Remember that when you die."

She walked away … away from the dais, from Odin, along the rich carpet than ran down the center of the hall until she had left the room. Odin made no attempt to stop her.

"Are you finished?" Odin asked Loki, his expression almost blank with suppressed anger.

"I am," Loki said, refusing to offer his once-father even the simplest honorific.

Leaning toward the gods on either side of his throne, Odin listened and nodded. Thor bent toward Odin like a sturdy tree in the midst of a Midgardian hurricane, jaw clenched. Lady Sif closed her eyes.

Odin straightened. "Loki, once-prince-of-Asgard, avowed traitor, attempted kinslayer, murderer of innocents. You are to be taken to the public square south of the palace, given one hundred lashes, and left there bound and hung on a post as an example to the citizens of Asgard, without food or water or hand offered in comfort, for the span of seven days."

Thor began to relax, but Loki was not such a fool. He waited for the rest.

"When the seven days have passed, you are to be confined to a cell on the moon of Desolation, where you will have contact with no living creature, no magic, and no means to take your own life. You will receive only those provisions that are necessary to keep you alive. There you will reside for ten centuries to think on your crimes."

"Father!" Thor said, forgetting himself completely. "Ten centuries! You cannot—"

"You have spoken bravely and loyally for one who deserves neither consideration," Odin said with surprising gentleness. "But there will be no more pleas. Our decision is final." He nodded to Loki's guards. "Escort him back to his cell. He is to be flogged tomorrow at dawn."

"All-father!" Loki shouted as his guards seized his arms. "I will plead with you," he said, panic rising like sour bile in his throat. "Kill me. For if you do not, I will find a way to escape, and I will kill _you_."

"You can never escape," Odin said. His eye glistened. "Not from the cell, nor from yourself. It is a punishment far worse than death, and what you deserve."

Loki laughed wildly. "You think you can stand against _him_," he said, "who promised to hunt me down wherever I might flee. He will find me, and release me, and send me to a far worse fate than your small mind can begin to imagine."

"You are mad," Odin said. "And for that, I find some small pity. We will not speak again."

The sound of sobbing came from behind Loki … the girl who had spoken for him earlier. The rest … was silence.

But as they dragged Loki away, he smiled at the girl. And she smiled back, through the tears running down her brave, unlovely face.

#

It was the girl who came to him first as he hung from the shaming pole in the square, even before Frigga crept out of the palace in defiance of the All-father's will.

"Here," she said, lifting a simple earthenware mug to Loki's lips. She could barely reach him, but she managed it at last, and he drank as helplessly as a mortal after days in Earth's hottest desert. He closed his eyes, savoring the water as if it were the finest mead or wine.

He could scarcely remember what mead or wine tasted like. His mouth was filled with blood, his tongue swollen from thirst and the wounds his teeth had made when he'd bitten down on it. Every time he opened his mouth it bled afresh. His wounds were not healing. Odin had forbidden it, and so Loki's body obeyed the All-father's will.

"What …" he croaked.

"Don't try to speak," the girl said. "You will only harm yourself even more."

Loki jerked his head to the side, attempting to toss the blood-clotted hair away from his face. "What is your name?" he managed.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "Drink. Please."

"Your … name," he said, fresh blood welling into his mouth.

"Adisla," she said, setting the mug to his mouth again. He had no choice but to drink, and as he did she pushed the heavy strands still falling across his face and tucked them almost tenderly behind his equally blood ear.

He wanted to hate her. To hate her kindness, her compassion … ah, yes, that word again … her concern for his welfare, as if he were some noble hero unjustly punished.

The punishment, like the shackles, like the muzzle, had been meant to humiliate and degrade as much as to cause pain and prevent his working of magic. The crowd had been very quiet when it began, when they had stripped Loki of his humble shirt, chained him spread-armed to the crossbeam of the pole, high enough so that his toes barely touched the ground. It had been impossible for him to turn his head, and so he pressed his face into the stained wood, breathing in the stink of the blood of those who had come before him. Common thieves, criminals, peasants.

He had not expected it to hurt. Much. He had already endured far worse than any of these slavering onlookers could imagine. Than Odin could imagine. A flogging was nothing by comparison.

No. What he had found unbearable was being treated like something worse than a criminal, thief, or peasant. They stripped him of what was left of his rank, his pride, his rightful kingship, and in his mind's eye he imagined the gaudy heroes of earth—the so-called "Avengers"-watching with open satisfaction.

But when the first blow fell, he still felt pain. He felt the heavy whip, wielded by a warrior known for his brutal strength, cut into his flesh and barely managed to contain his body's instinctive reaction to the insult. The second blow cut deeper, and the third deeper still.

Each time he bit into his lip or tongue, refusing to give any of them the pleasure of seeing him react in anyway. He heard screams and sobs, not his own, and felt something very like pity. But after the fiftieth lash, when his back was laid open to the bone and was nothing but a mass of ruined flesh, he began to make sounds. They came without his will, deep from inside his body. He tried to escape, remembering worse torture he had endured, something he had been told he would long for if he failed to deliver the Tesseract to the Other.

He remembered the shame of being tossed about by the green monster as if he were a child's rag doll. He thought of what he would do to Odin if he ever regained his power. He imagined punishing every man and woman who stood watching so silently. He imagined Lady Sif's smile. And her hatred. And forcing her to kneel to him and give him everything he had ever wanted of her.

But still he hurt. _Coward_, he cursed himself. _Weakling. _He would not let them see it. He would_ not._

By the seventy-fifth lash, he had begun to lose consciousness. He fought to keep it. He wanted to remember this, to burn it into his mind so that his vengeance would be that much sweeter. But by the eightieth, he mind began to fail him. It drifted away, detaching itself from a body that could no longer accept, a body slashed to ribbons held together only by bone and sinew and ravaged muscle.

He woke again when it ended. He still felt the lash long after it was withdrawn, tried to move, knew he was incapable of it. His body had gone into shock, and so had he.

It was strangely freeing, this shock. He no longer cared what the peasants, what the great lords and ladies, what Sif thought of him. He no longer wished for death.

He wanted nothing. All his ambition had been away with his flesh. He wanted no part of conquest or kingship. He was in his own world, his own bubble of nothingness that was almost a kind of contentment.

The bubble lasted until nightfall, when the darkness ate through it and left him naked again. Then the pain came, the pain for which there was no relief because he could not mend his own wounds. No healer was permitted to approach him, even if any had wished to do so. Muscle screamed and ripped again with even the slightest movement. His shoulders had nearly been torn from their sockets, and one was dislocated. He could no longer feel his legs. Acid ate into his back, worked its way out again, and returned with ceaseless hunger to devour him anew.

Then the girl came. Adisla, with her gentle hands.

"How … long?" he whispered.

"Two days."

_Only two days?_ Loki tried to laugh, but there was little left of his voice to be wasted.

"I must not stay long," Adisla said, looking around quickly, "but Queen Frigga has taken me into her service. She has been unable to leave the palace. The All-father watches her. But she will find a way to come to you soon."

"No," Loki said. "Tell her to … stay away."

"I cannot tell my queen to stay away from her son."

"I am not—" He coughed, turning his head to avoid spitting blood and phlegm on the girl. "She cannot see me … like this."

"I see you," Adisla said, "and I still see the one who helped me when no one else would."

"Go!" Loki rasped. "I don't … want you here."

"I know." She touched his sweat-slick forehead and backed away. A voice called from the shadows, and she quickly retreated. "I have no more time. Have courage, Odin's son."

_Have courage_. Loki tried to laugh again, but broke instead into another fit of coughing. The water he swallowed was thick with blood.

He spat again, unable to so much as wipe his mouth on his shoulder. Slowly, as the sun rose, the peasants and merchants began to emerge from their nests to stare at the fallen prince. Distantly, Loki wondered why none of them shouted insults or laughed or threw rotted food at his head. It was their right. He thought it would have been their pleasure as well.

But they were strangely quiet. Almost as if they didn't revel in his condition. But perhaps it was only they were still afraid him. Afraid he might escape and do them harm. That could be the only explanation. They were not yet prepared to discount his power, as Odin did. As did all the rest in the palace.

With reason. For if he survived, he would escape the prison Odin had devised for him. If the Other came for him, he would escape. He would always escape. And take his revenge.

By midday, when Thor finally came, Loki could no longer feel his tongue at all. The loss of blood had drained the liquid from his body. He tried to keep his head erect, but it insisted on falling again and again. He tried to breathe deeply, but he panted like a dog instead.

"Brother."'

Thor's voice was uncommonly gentle, as it had been when they had last spoken. The big hand cradled Loki's chin and lifted it. Thor's brows drew down, and he grimaced as if he, too, felt Loki's pain.

"I saw it," he said. "I would have stopped it, but—"'

"Stopped it?" Loki laughed hoarsely.

"I could not," Thor said, bowing his head. "The All-father took Mjolnir until such time until you are in your prison cell. And Mother …" He swallowed. "She insisted on watching until I forced her to leave. I have tried to stay at her side every moment since, lest she harm herself."

Loki was unable to move his head enough to jerk free of Thor's touch. "Tell her …" He closed his eyes. "Tell her … no. Not for me."

"How can I ask that of her?" Thor demanded. "You are more dear to her than any other."

"Odin …"

"Yes. He favored me, and I was too stupid to know it."

"Stupid," Loki said weakly. "Always … gullible fool."

"Perhaps," Thor said, trying to make a jest of it. "Too easily deceived by one of your brilliance. But not in everything." He produced a soft water skin from inside his clothing. "The All-father is otherwise engaged, and so is Heimdall. Take this."

He held Loki's head steady and gave him more water. Again, Loki fought his own body to refuse, and lost the battle. Thor stroked his hair.

"You will … dirty your hands," Loki said.

"They have oft been dirtier than this," Thor said. "And we have both been—"

"Bloodier? Your … memory …"

"Never bloodier," Thor said, serious again. "But you took it all with great courage. Of all the things you have lost, that is not gone."

"Leave me, Odin's son. I am not your friend, nor you mine."

Thor dropped his hands. "You remember what I said before. That has not changed for me, or for our mother. You will suffer more punishment, Loki … but if I have any influence with our father, you will not suffer a thousand years in isolation."

"Set me free … and I will do what I did before," Loki said.

"I don't think so," Thor said. "And yes, that is 'sentiment.'"

He kissed Loki's forehead and walked away, his strides shorter than usual, his head bowed.

At nightfall, Loki was no longer able to fight off the need for sleep, even if it could not heal him. Two and a half days out of seven. More time to think, to plot revenge. To lose pain in scheming. To pretend the rest of the world didn't exist.

Sleep quieted all his thoughts. He jerked awake when he heard the woman's voice calling his name.

"Moth—" he began.

"Sif," the woman said, moving closer.

"Come to … gawk at the frost giant again? To see if … my blood is the same as theirs?"

Lady Sif looked away. "Queen Frigga is still attempting to leave the palace. She sends her love."

"I return it … unopened," Loki said.

"Of course you do." Sif's voice was a cross as ever, more a bark than Frigga's dulcet tones. "You appreciate nothing, not even your own family's inexplicable love for you."

"Tell me of Odin's great love for his foundling frost giant," Loki whispered.

She turned to go, stopped, and turned back again. "Food," she said, offering a piece of bread to him as if he were as repulsive as a bilgesnipe. He turned his head aside. She dropped the bread at his feet and marched away.

After that, no one came near him. His legs, well trained and muscled for swift movement and running, burned from the effort of holding his body up. He knew that if he let go, his other shoulder would become dislocated and he would not be able to move at all. That final indignity he refused to suffer.

Frigga came late on the third night. Her eyes were dry, but they were red with recent weeping. She reached out to him.

"No," he said.

"Loki …"

"Leave me in peace, Queen of Asgard."

"In peace?" her voice rose, though not a single citizen peeped out of his or her lodging. "Is this peace to you, Loki? Is this the only way you can find solace, in suffering as you have made others suffer?"

"Is this not what you wanted, mother?" he said, trying to smile. "You said I deserved punishment, did you not?"

"Yes. And you shall face punishment. And I shall not see you for a thousand years."

"After which time, the mortals I damaged will also have been forgotten."

"And you will still think nothing of it."

"Who can say what a man might think after a few hundred years of solitude?"

"You speak with all your bitterest sarcasm, but it is only to protect yourself." She touched his cheek in spite of his protest. "You are beginning to feel it, aren't you? Regret. The madness is leaving you. You begin to understand the wrongness of your actions from the moment you took the scepter."

"The one you gave me."

"When you were not ready, as I should have—"

"I was meant to be king!" Loki said savagely. "I was more worthy—"

"Even though you were a Jotun, who should never hold the throne of Asgard? I believed you could. You disappointed me deeply, Loki, and yet when you let yourself fall …"

"Thor … pushed me," Loki said, though there was a fog in his mind, his words ringing hollow in his own ears.

"You know he did not," Frigga said. "He would never do so, no matter what your crimes. He tried to reason with you on Earth. You would not hear him. You have never said what happened when you fell, only that you had changed. That you had seen things Thor had never imagined. Yes, he told me." She licked her thumb and rubbed at the blood encrusting the corner of his lip. "Can you even be certain of your own memory now?"

Loki swallowed. She was right. He couldn't seem to remember. Not everything. He _did_ remember pain, excruciating agony, the stripping of flesh from his body followed by soothing medicines and substances that elevated the mind to heights undreamed of. He remembered traveling from world to world by dark ways not even Odin knew, witnessing horrors and wonders beyond the scope of any Asgardian's conception: worlds of fire, of strange and choking gasses, of scorched earth, of monsters that devoured their young, of creatures like the mortal's angels.

He remembered yet more pain, his eyes removed, his tongue cut out, fingers lost one by one, limbs broken again and again. And then the pleasure, the women and men of surpassing beauty offered to him, ready to fulfill his slightest whim. He remembered voices, admonishing, threatening, urging, promising, one after the other in a constant cycle, like the pain and pleasure.

He knew not how long it had lasted … mortal weeks, months, years … before he began to understand what _they_ had done to him, the ones who had claimed to love him. He understood what he must do. What he deserved.

His burden of glorious purpose. Not only to rule, but to rid the pathetic mortals of their need for freedom. Delusional freedom. In exchange for the Tesseract and its safe delivery to his "allies."

And all the while he had known that if he failed …

He stretched his neck to look skyward, as if he expected the Other to swoop out of the sky and carry him off. Nowhere to hide.

_I am certain of nothing_, he thought. But he would speak those words, not even to this gentle woman who claimed to love him. And never to Thor, who also claimed to love him. He could barely speak them to himself, and then only with the deepest self-contempt.

"If I could take this pain from you now," Frigga said, "I would, with gratitude. But I cannot. Odin would never permit it. So I will stay with you tonight, and we will talk."

Loki clenched his teeth. "I don't need you."

She took his battered hand. "You need so much, Loki. Because you understand so much. You see so much. You feel so much."

"You were not sent here to ease pain, but to cause it," Loki said as a fresh wave of agony tore at his back.

"If you feel discomfort because I speak of what I know is true," she said, "that is proof enough that there is hope. And even the All-father cannot force me from your side unless he drags me off in chains as well."

Closing his eyes, Loki refused to watch as two of Loki's maids and personal guards arranged a chair for her, along with a table bearing simple food and drink, suitable for an invalid. He opened his eyes only when he realized she had not taken her seat. She remained standing at Loki's side.

It would do no good to reject her again. She was amazingly stubborn. Vaguely, Loki wondered if Thor had inherited that trait from her or Odin.

"Eat," she said, offering him bread and a taste of mead. This time he accepted it, determined even more than before not to fall, not to give way. When he had finished, she stroked his ravaged cheek.

"Without evil," she said, "there can be no good. Without good, no evil. Find your balance, my son. And now rest."

Perhaps it was her own kind of magic, but he found himself sinking into sleep again. When he woke at dawn, someone had bound the worst of his wounds. It was futile, for they broke open again with any slight motion. But then the hands returned with more bandages. Adisla's hands.

"Have you no wits?" Loki said. "Return to your duties."

"My duty now is to serve my queen," Adisla said. Loki noticed that her fingers were agile and calloused. A warrior's hands. If Lady Sif could set aside her arrogance, she might see ….

_What is happening to me?_

But he was too exhausted for yet more futile protests. "Where is the queen?" he demanded.

"Obtaining more food and water," the girl said.

"Fetch her, and make her sit," he told Adisla, the order coming as naturally as if he still stood among the mortals, compelling them to kneel at his feet.

"Make the queen do anything she doesn't wish to do?" Adisla said with a wry smile. "As well try to make Jotunheim burn." She flushed deeply as soon as she realized what she said, but it made it easier for Loki to despise her.

"Yes," he said. "And I would still make it burn, if not for this."

He didn't need to point out what "this" was, though once again his words rang hollow. He had no power now. Perhaps he never would again.

_I will. More than they can imagine__**. **_Because even if the Other and the Chitauri came for him, he'd trick them, find a way out, start over again.

Survive.

Unbending in her misplaced devotion, Frigga remained with Loki through another day and night, compelling him to eat and drink with the sheer force of her subtle but undeniable authority. And because Loki still respected her … because he still _felt_ something for her … he allowed her to bully him.

But the next morning, guards from the palace arrived to "escort" the queen back to the All-father, and no stern words on her part could deter them from their mission. With a distraught glance at Loki, she and her entourage departed, awestruck peasants finally daring to peer out their windows to watch her pass.

Loki gave himself up to pain again, no longer able to distract himself from the torment of his ruined flesh. He became delirious, sinking into confused dreams and visions he could make no sense of.

A sudden, jarring spasm in his shoulder snapped him out of it. Thor was beside him again, holding Loki's upper arm as he deftly forced it back into its socket. Only a small pain compared to the rest, but Loki grimaced and then released his breath in a long sigh as that constant discomfort eased.

"Brother," Thor said.

Loki blinked. It was morning again, but he no longer knew which one. A cup of water was forced to his lips, and there was no more denying Thor's will than the queen's. He drank, and when the cup was empty and refilled he drank again. All the while Thor stroked his filthy hair, and when the final cup had been drained he lifted Loki up, taking the weight off legs that had passed beyond agony into numbness that threatened to leave them forever useless.

Now, all at once, Loki's will was gone again, and he slumped into Thor's arms, his head falling onto Thor's broad shoulder. They were children, and Thor was carrying Loki to his bed after an exhausting day of playing and riding … playing that seemed to happen less and less as Thor grew older and left childish things behind.

Loki's eyes betrayed him, and he blinked several times to clear them. He had loved Thor so dearly then, looked up to him, admired him as he admired no other, longed to be as strong and brave as his brother. But soon he began to understand the vast chasm that stood between them, between the golden prince and the dark, the warrior and the boy who never quite measured up to him in their father's esteem or the respect of the other warriors.

At what moment had he ceased to love the brother Odin's ill-fated "rescue" had given him? Loki had told Thor before the trial that he had always hated him. He'd lied, of course, to save his own pride.

But if he had meant what he'd said to Thor before the coronation, before his fall—and a part of him whispered that he had—when had that thread of emotion snapped? When Odin had admitted what he truly was? When the scepter of kingship had been placed in his hands, and he knew he must stop caring—for Thor, for anyone-if he were to rule as he meant to? At the moment when he realized that Thor was prepared to seize what should be Loki's alone-to prove, again, that he was above Loki in every way?

Or was it still love that had filled his eyes with treacherous tears when he had challenged Thor to one final battle?

"Let me go," Loki whispered.

"Never," Thor said. "I will not leave you again until this part of the sentence is completed."

"Odin—"

"Cannot stop me," Thor said in that particularly obstinate voice that brooked no argument. "He will lose his other son if he attempts it."

"He never _had_ another son. And I never—"

Thor gripped the back of Loki's neck gently, preventing him from pulling away. "If you are about to tell you aren't my brother again," he said, "I will …" His voice faded, for even he could think of no fitting threat, even in jest.

"How many times must I … try to kill you before you let me go?" Loki said into the skin of Thor's neck. It smelled slightly of sweat, of armor, of leather, of horse. Familiar. Beloved.

"More than you already have," Thor said. "But I don't think you will, Brother."

"If I … had the power …"

"You wouldn't do it," Thor said with infinite gentleness, so at odds with his bluff warrior's ways. "I feel you coming back to yourself, Loki." He hesitated, as if he were trying to find yet more words to express his conviction. "How many times did you stop me from committing acts fully as reckless as our foray into Jutunheim, before our father cast me out?"

"I … goaded you into that," Loki said. "Or haven't you realized yet how easily you were manipulated?"

"You only wished to prove I was unworthy of the throne," Odin said, "and your own scheme turned on you when I made it clear that I expected you to accompany me." He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "It was only much later that I realized how startled you were, and how quickly you recovered. Whatever your motives then, you were right to warn the guard. You fought with us. You saved Fandral's life. In the end, you saved all of us."

"I saved my own skin."

He nearly choked when he realized what he had said. _His own skin._ The Jotun skin a single touch had revealed.

"I do not believe that was all of it," Thor said, "or you would not have tried so hard to make me see reason and leave Jotunheim before we were surrounded."

Loki's laugh was little more than a muffled bark. "Do you believe … that was the first time I tricked you into doing exactly what I intended?"

"No. But you never intended to see me cast out, did you?"

_Not then_, Loki thought. Odin's act had shocked him as much as it had Thor. But when everything else had changed ….

"Our father was wise," Odin said. "Your actions opened his eye to my unacceptable flaws. If he had not exiled me, I would have lost so much I never would have known had I remained in Asgard."

"I ruined your coronation," Loki rasped, desperately seeking a different if hardly original approach. "I cared not if Odin's most favored warriors died defending the relics."

"I do not deny or excuse your murderous actions," Thor said. "If I thought you utterly beyond hope, I would not be here now. But …" He hesitated again. "Two subjects previously unknown to me, one now in our mother's service, testified on your behalf at the judging. But others, highborn and low-those too frightened or wary to speak-came to me afterward with stories of other small kindnesses you did them."

"_Small_ kindnesses," Loki said, his contempt seeming weak and empty. "And of little importance to me."

"Yet of great importance to _them_."

"That was ….long ago."

"Was it?"

"I am no longer a child."

"Nor were you then." He pulled Loki into a tight embrace. "Something changed, yes. But that ability is still within you."

"Take care lest you … break my back," Loki mumbled. "Unless that is your intention."

Thor sighed, his breath gusting against Loki's hair. "You may yet be capable of terrible acts, but I there is still within you the boy I grew up with. That is what I will wait centuries to see restored." He kissed the top of Loki's head. "I will never let you fall again."

As much as he tried to resist, Loki couldn't find the words to mock Thor's ludicrous affection and so-called "faith." He was weary beyond any weariness he had ever known, and all he understood now that someone once dear to him was holding him, easing his muscles, warming his body, touching him with as much care and tenderness as Frigga had done.

_His brother_.

"Rest now," that deep, soothing voice said. "Sleep."

All of Loki's muscles relaxed, and he closed his eyes. Thor's warmth spread through him, melting the pain away. He didn't have to fight anymore. He was protected. He was safe.

He woke several times to find Thor still there, still holding him, demanding he drink and eat food Loki once would have scorned as slop fit only for swine. Not once did Thor allow his feet to touch the ground.

Until, suddenly, the shackles and chains holding Loki's arms to the crossbeams were released. Thor eased him down, the big warrior's presence enough to lock the screams in Loki's throat.

Thor cradled Loki in his arms. "It's over," he said. "I'm taking you home."

"No home," Loki croaked, his limbs useless, every emotion as raw as his back.

Thor didn't offer empty promises that Loki would have any home but a prison cell for the next thousand years. He knelt to cover Loki's back with something that didn't hurt worse than the wounds themselves, lifted Loki into his powerful arms, and-ignoring the guards who had come to collect the condemned-walked carefully along the street rising toward the palace on the hill.

It was not often that Asgardians became ill as mortals did, but that night, before he could be moved to his prison, a fever took Loki. He was permitted the small mercy of recovering before his true punishment was to begin, but as he tossed and turned in his temporary cell, Thor never left his side. Frigga, Thor said, could not come to him now, but Loki hardly noticed. He was lifted, bathed, his hair washed and cut to the old length, his injuries seen to, all by Thor or under the prince's close supervision. As Loki shivered, his body shifting between its Asgardian and Jotun forms no matter what his will, a warm, strong hand held his, and words of comfort and forgiveness kept him anchored to the world.

When the fever was done, he was clean, his wounds ached but no longer tore at him every time he moved, and he wore fresh clothing. He had not been permitted his "old" clothes, fit for a prince and son of Odin—naturally not-but for the first time since he'd ridden with Thor to Jotunheim he felt as almost as he had before he'd fallen from the Bifrost.

_When Thor pushed me_, he thought for the hundredth time. But that wasn't right. His memory … wasn't right.

He tried to get out of bed, but Thor pushed him back carefully, as if he were handling some precious object made of fine crystal. "Not yet," he said. "As long as you're ill, Father won't send you away."

"It must be done," Loki said, closing his eyes.

"But not yet."

"Why has he permitted you to stay here?"

"I can be fully as determined as he is," Thor said with a touch of grimness about his mouth. "And I am more than willing to face the consequences if I must openly defy him in this."

"He'll exile you again."

"I don't think he will," Thor said. "He is very wise, and he has no other son."

"You will go too far, Brother." _As I did__._

The words came out of thoughts he didn't understand-his and _not_ his, drowned out all by all the others in his head when he'd gone to Midgard. The voices that had promised and threatened and offered so many lies even he couldn't hope to outmatch.

_Did they lie? _

"Brother," Thor said, sitting on the hard cot. "Very seldom have you called me that since we fought each other on Midgard."

"Because … we are not," Loki said, rolling his head to the side, away from Thor.

"This becomes wearisome, Loki," Thor snapped. "Nothing you say, nothing you do can end what we are to each other." His voice softened. "Never will you be less than a brother and dearest friend to me."

It was more than Loki could bear, far worse than the pain of the flogging, the agony of the endless cycle of torment and pleasure he had endured between the fall and his arrival on Midgard. Thor saw more deeply into Loki than anyone else … even more so, Loki thought, than their mother.

That had never happened before. Loki remembered living in Thor's shadow, Thor's random and careless acts of kindness, a certain protectiveness for his younger brother, a rough affection. Nothing at all of understanding.

But Thor had changed, just as he had claimed. When Loki had sent the Destroyer after Thor on Earth, Thor had begged to know what wrong he had done his brother. He had even, in his way, asked forgiveness. It had been more than a plea for his own life, for he had offered it up in return for Loki's mercy on his mortal friends.

His lifelong refusal to let any deep emotion touch him was gone. It was as if a dam had burst, and a flood of all the feelings Thor had repressed had drowned the reckless warrior who seemed to regard life and the killing of enemies as only an amusing game.

If only Loki had seen beyond his own hatred … and yes, jealousy, and pride … he might have recognized this profound change before the final battle on the Bifrost. They might have spoken, if not as friends, then as something other than enemies. In spite of everything, in spite of the Destroyer, Thor would have permitted it.

And won. Won everything, as he always had.

_Sentiment_, Loki thought. Weakness. Nothing changed.

Almost nothing.

Loki's rage returned, and he surged up against Thor's restraining hands. All these centuries, and he hadn't realized how strong his Jotun blood made him, hadn't tested himself fully. Not until Earth.

"You want my affection in return," he spat. "But you must learn to live without it … _Brother_. "

"I can live without it," Thor said quietly, letting him sit up. "But I have no need to. It is in your nature to hold in your heart contradictions that continually tear you apart. I agree with our mother. You can find a balance, a place of truce, where the taking of innocent lives is no longer necessary to your ambitions."

"And if my ambition … is still to deny you the crown?" Loki said, refusing to meet Thor's gaze.

"You may try. But this time, Brother, I do not think you'll succeed. I'll be ready for you."

Loki almost laughed, but the sound became a snort of derision. "Do not underestimate me, Son of Odin," he said.

"Never," Thor said. "If I must personally keep you in line, as the mortals of Earth say, I will do it."

"You may try."

Laying his hand along the side of Loki's face, he compelled Loki to look at him. "This war must end, brother. Between us, between you and the universe, between the two halves of yourself. And I will be there, at your side, when that end comes."

Loki heard the guards' approach outside the cell before Thor did. He was on his feet in an instant, forcing Thor out of his way.

"They're here," Loki said. He licked his lips, knowing the flogging was as nothing compared to what he faced now. "Am I permitted one last word with the queen?"

"No," Thor said. He turned Loki toward him again and gripped the back of his neck. "But she goes with you, in spirit, and in love. I will not be able to visit you inside your cell, Brother. You are not permitted to see anyone, and you will not see me, but I will be there."

As if he had left within him some small spark of innocence, Loki curled his own fingers around Thor's muscular neck. He rested his forehead against Thor's.

"I'll know you're there," he said. And then the guards entered, and prodded Loki with their staffs before Thor beat them aside.

"I will take my brother," he said. "He will not escape. He will reach his prison and be sealed inside it. But I will be the one to do it."

"_Thor._"

The guard knelt with perfect precision. Odin strode into the narrow hall of the confinement area and stopped before the cell, his hands folded behind his back. Thor met his father's gaze unflinchingly.

"You have ignored my commands once again," Odin said. "Your time with the prisoner is over."

_The prisoner_, Loki thought. He grinned into Odin's face. "Greetings …. Father," he said with a mocking bow. "Come to see your adopted son off to his new dwelling?"

Odin barely glanced at him. But Loki saw something he hadn't expected.

Guilt. No one else would have detected it. And it was a weakness in which Loki took great pleasure. Perhaps his last.

"It will be easy for you now, Father," Loki said. "You need never again be reminded of the mistake you make in taking a frost giant's spawn into your world of light."

"Loki," Thor said, gripping Loki's arm so tightly that it hurt.

"I have made many errors," Odin said in a weary voice. He finally met Loki's gaze. "But my greatest was in believing you could overcome the nature with which you were born."

"The All-father, who once slaughtered thousands of Jotun, admits to error," Loki said. He spat at Odin's feet. "May you make many more before you fall into your final sleep."

Thor grabbed Loki by the back of his collar before the guards could move, nearly strangling him. "With your permission, All-father," he said, "I will carry out the remainder of the sentence."

Odin hesitated, but only for a moment. "Go," he said. "But do not tarry."

With a bow of profound respect, Thor fixed the manacles and chains over the still-raw flesh of Loki's wrists. He deliberately ignored the gag and marched Loki out of the cell.

There were guards in plenty lining the corridor, but no other onlookers. Some of the most heavily armed soldiers fell in behind Thor and Loki, but they hung well back, anticipating Thor's wrath if they came too close.

Loki walked with his head high, but he was nearly blind with panic. A thousand mortal years in a small cell. He had thought himself alone all his life, but this was different. No magic, no tricks, no Warriors Three to taunt or Lady Sif to despise. He would be left with only his own mind for company.

The Bifrost was still not yet operational, but the Moon of Desolation was connected to Asgard by a very narrow bridge, seldom used, that never carried more than two living beings at a time. No prisoner had ever been condemned to more than a few decades on this moon. Only those servants who had prepared Loki's prison had traveled to the place in the past few years.

Heimdall's power was not necessary here. Holding tightly to Loki's arm, Thor stood at the base of the bridge and activated it. He turned Loki to face him again.

"Courage, Brother," he said. "But I know you have that in abundance. Now learn mercy, toward yourself and others. Atone for your evil acts. Become what you were meant to be."

"I shall think on your advice," Loki said with a bitter smile. "There will be plenty of time to consider it."

"Come."

Thor stepped onto the bridge, and in an instant they were in the midst of Desolation. The ice-rimed box of the prison was nearly lost in the gales of sleet and cruel wind. The cold barely touched Loki's Jotun blood, and Thor was utterly stoic. Loki broke free of his hold and waded through the snow to the seemingly solid wall of the prison.

"How do we get in?" he asked, as if they were children playing a puzzle-game.

He sensed the lock just before Thor touched a small section of the wall. It slid back to reveal an inner cell, closed off by nearly opaque walls that let in a little light but almost no sound. Without hesitation, Loki preceded Thor into the cell.

There was a bed, of sorts. A self-cleaning facility, several changes of clothing folded across the bed, a preservation unit for food, a single chair and a small table with a light set into the wall beside it. There was nothing with which Loki might take his own life.

"Books?" Loki asked, his throat tight. "Readers? Scrolls?"

"You will be permitted three books or other reading materials every month," Thor said, "as well as fresh clothing and food. You will not see the one who brings them, but it will always be me." He laid his hand on Loki's shoulder. "I know your tastes."

"No," Loki whispered. "You never have."

Thor turned him about and embraced him, loosening his hold only when Loki winced at the pressure on his back. He laid his cheek against Loki's.

"I will see this sentence shortened," he said. "But you must swear to me that you will fight this demon inside you."

"You will soon forget me when you return to your mortal lover."

"That is impossible."

"I can promise nothing," Loki said, swallowing shameful tears.

"But you will do it, for me." He set Loki back. "My most beloved brother."

He bent Loki's head between his hands and kissed his forehead. "Farewell," he said, his own voice thick with unshed tears, "for now."

Loki tried to turn away. But as Thor backed slowly toward the cell door, Loki strode after him.

"Never doubt," he said, "that I love you."

Thor tried to smile, pretending not to see the tears in Loki's eyes. He bowed his head, walked out the door and sealed it. Loki leaned against the wall, defeated utterly, wiping at his face with his sleeve like a snot-nosed infant.

But as he remembered himself and straightened, he became aware of a shadow moving just outside the outer prison wall, impossible to identify. Until the shape took on the lines of a hand, thick and distorted.

Loki placed his own hand over the shadow. The last touch. The last good-bye.

Then the shadow was gone, and Loki was alone.


End file.
